I wrote this in my sleep back in 1994...17 years old, my senior year in high school. I remember looking out the window and seeing a crescent moon...what a friend of mine used to call "God's Thumbnail". The next morning, this poem was scribbled on scrap pieces of paper on my nightstand. I lost the notebook where this poem was written years and years ago. Last week, I decided to see if I could find and order the book where it was published in 1995. Success!! This brings back memories.
I'm not sure what I should say about this, I'm not sure what I want to say either. I feel like I should bs some metaphor about how I helped a someone with a scientific exploration only to be blamed for everything that they discovered.
I dislike that that I thought I'd never fall into this trap, but more of me just pities them, they must be so consumed to become so hateful.
